


Day Twenty: Betrayal

by OBlossom



Series: Febuwhump 2021 [20]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: FebuWhump2021, Hurt/Comfort, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is a Mess, Police Brutality, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 21:35:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29615772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OBlossom/pseuds/OBlossom
Summary: Sam tightened his arms around him, “You know, kid, it doesn’t matter what happened. No judgement right now, okay? Everyone who knows you only wants the best for you. Got it?”Peter took a deep breath and then whispered, “No. Not everyone...”Sam smiled into the boy’s hair. “I don’t think the bad guys count, Pete.”Peter laughed out loud, only for the sound to transform into a sob.“Pete?” Sam pulled back so he could see his face.He was devastated.“But what if the b-bad guy is supposed to be the good guy?!”
Relationships: Peter Parker & Sam Wilson
Series: Febuwhump 2021 [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2138958
Comments: 3
Kudos: 97
Collections: febuwhump 2021





	Day Twenty: Betrayal

**Author's Note:**

> Dear Life,
> 
> I'm really wanting to get these out on time. 
> 
> Please stop.
> 
> Sincerely,
> 
> -Colleen xo

Day 20: betrayal

Sam came as soon as Nick had called.

“There’s something wrong with the Spider-kid. You need to get here and fix him.” 

He’d provided no additional background, save that the boy had needed the med bay for a concussion, broken forearm, multiple stitches and a few bandages.

But no one knew why. Spider-Man wouldn’t say a word.

Literally. Not. One. Word.

That had been two days ago.

Sam had come two days ago...

The first evening, he knocked on the door and waited. The medical report Nick had eventually forwarded to him as team leader hadn’t indicated any lingering concerns once they’d cleared the concussion so Peter had been released to his quarters. The fact that Peter hadn’t answered the door when he’d knocked hadn’t really shocked him. Sam knew that healing took a lot out of the kid and he’d be needing some serious rest and feeding when all was said and done. He confirmed through the compound’s new integrated AI system that Peter was alright and left him for the night. 

Yesterday, Sam had shown up just before lunch with those sandwiches the kid loved from that little place in Queens. He’d knocked, and waited, and then confirmed again via the AI that Peter was in his room and awake. “Hey, Computer, can you ask the kid if he’s going to come open this door?” 

The AI, not nearly as entertaining as FRIDAY had been, came back with, “Peter Parker is not responding to inquiry. Shall I continue asking until I receive a response?” 

Sam left the sandwiches by the door after trying one last time. “Yo, Pete! I’ve got a sandwich for you! It may or may not have been squished for your dining pleasure.” But again, Peter didn’t answer. He eventually called out, “Pete, I’m gonna leave some food from Delmar’s outside your door for you. You don’t have to see anyone if you don’t want to, but come and grab some food to eat, okay?”

Of course, he didn’t answer.

—And when he stopped by to check in again later that evening, the paper bag still sat untouched outside his door.

“Computer,” Sam was becoming concerned. “Is Peter needing medical assistance?”

“Mr. Parker is in a comparable state to when he was released from the medical bay.”

That made Sam feel a little better... but just a little. “Has Peter left his room at all today?”

“Peter Parker has not left his quarters today, Mr. Wilson.”

“Has anyone been allowed access to Peter’s room?” He tried.

“Negative, Mr. Wilson, though no one has attempted to access these quarters.” 

Sam was not okay with this. He knocked, putting all of his will and determination behind it. “Peter Parker, this is your team leader. I am ordering you to open this door, kid.”

Of course that would be the exact moment some new trainees for SHIELD walked by and started whispering about that Falcon guy banging on a door like a total asshole.

He waved them off, “Yeah, yeah, look at Falcon—“ and then mumbled the rest. “Can’t get his own Spider-recruit to open the damned door.” 

He turned to walk away, then thought of one last thing. “Hey, buddy, I’m gonna be back tomorrow morning.” He thought out his day and continued. “I’ll be here with breakfast at 9am, so be dressed, please? I really—REALLY don’t want any surprises, okay?” 

The silence wasn’t a surprise.

“Computer, please set his morning alarm for 8:15am...” he huffed out a breath of frustration. “And let him know that pants are not optional.”

“Request accepted. Thank you.”

Sam headed straight to Nick Fury’s office.

* * * * * * 

Sam knew that today was going to go about as well as the two previous days, and Sam was irritated. Nothing he’d read could explain what happened to Peter the day he was hurt. He’d managed to get to headquarters under his own steam, and then provided nothing save for some headshakes and nods while the medical staff treated him.

They never should have let him leave the med bay.

The silence had gone on too long. It wasn’t good for the kid. Anyone who knew him knew what a talkative little shit he was... and that was just Peter. And so, with Nick’s permission to access his personal quarters if he was denied, Sam was going to do his best to do exactly what he’d been tasked with—fix the kid.

Of course, even clutching a bag of breakfast sandwiches from that little diner a block over, Sam had been left out in the hall—again.

“Computer, unlock Peter Parker’s door. Charlie-Alpha-2-2-4-9.” 

The satisfying *snick* of the door lock disengaging felt like a victory. He’d made it past the only barricade standing between him and Peter.

And then he saw Peter.

To the unobservant, it seemed that Peter had just rolled out of bed and moved to the chair in the corner. Yes, he was burritoed in his comforter but the sheets on his bed were rumpled in a way that demonstrated a long period of bed rest—for lack of a better way to describe it. 

“Hey, Pete.” Sam stood just inside the suite. He may have gotten in, but he still wanted Peter to have some control. “You mind if I come in?”

Peter shrugged and Sam took it for as close to a ‘yes’ as he was going to get, so he closed the door behind and stepped in.

He waited for Peter to say something; a greeting, a ‘hey! get out,’ or anything. The quiet was unnerving. 

Sam cracked first. “You’re a tough guy to get ahold of.”

Peter shrugged again, and turned his attention to the industrial grade carpet that covered all the personal quarters.

“I’m starting to feel like you’re not in the mood for a chat, Pete?” Sam tried to be humorous as he watched the boy staring out into the room.

Clumsily, thanks to the cast on Peter’s right arm, the boy got up and turned the chair to face the window then dropped right back into it.

“Aaaaaand that would be a no. Got it, kid.” He smiled, even though Pete wasn’t watching. “You know, it’s a good thing I’m so unconcerned with things like social niceties and giving people space, otherwise I’d be leaving and you’d still be sitting here all sad and by yourself.” 

Peter burrowed back into his blanket and slammed his head into the back of his seat-- repeatedly.

Sam dropped the bag of food on the floor, lunged from where he’d been standing and caught the back of Peter’s head. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Take it easy, Pete! You’re okay.” He soothed as he kept his hand in place but moved to kneel in front of the obviously overwrought kid. “This is a safe place, kid... even if that means from you so let’s just breathe for a minute okay?” Peter was avoiding Sam’s eyes. “Hey, you don’t need to be looking at me if you don’t want to; you just need to be breathing.”

Peter nodded and closed his eyes and then, in a move completely unexpected, he leaned forward, rested his head against Sam’s shoulder.

Sam’s hold on Peter’s head turned to soft, comforting caresses. “That’s it, Peter. You’re okay. I’ve got you. Just keep breathing.” 

He did just that, Sam could tell by the stuttering breaths he tried to bring in. After a few minutes, the efforts smoothed and Peter was calming down.

“I’m guessing you needed a moment, huh?”

Peter nodded against his shoulder. 

“Are you ready to talk about what brought this on?”

Peter didn’t respond. 

Sam couldn’t allow that. The boy was more than a little upset about a Spidey-shift gone wrong so he gripped the back of Peter’s head. “Look. The being quiet thing isn’t working, kid. I know you wish it was, but it’s not. And I know I’m not who you want to be talking to right now, but I’m the one you’ve got, and I only want you to be okay, you got it?”

Neither of them needed to say his name. The boy was heartbroken enough.

Peter stayed still, and then finally nodded.

“Good boy.” Sam whispered and without a thought, pressed a kiss to the top of the boy’s head. “Whenever you’re ready.”

He moved then, snuggled into Sam, practically falling into him—and Sam wondered how long it had been since the boy had felt cared for. The boy had his aunt, but since after the final Snap, he’d spent every weekend at headquarters training while his aunt was working the overnight shift at the hospital. Did he even see her anymore?

He had thought he knew his role as team leader, then thought of the man Peter had worked with most and best. Sam sighed. Maybe it was time to throw away the rigid ideas he’d been trying to emulate as the gold standard since his advancement and just spend more of his off hours getting to know his teammates and youngest charge. 

Yeah, that sounded like a great idea.

Sam tightened his arms around him, “You know, kid, it doesn’t matter what happened. No judgement right now, okay? Everyone who knows you only wants the best for you. Got it?”

Peter took a deep breath and then whispered, “No. Not everyone...”

Sam smiled into the boy’s hair. “I don’t think the bad guys count, Pete.”

Peter laughed out loud, only for the sound to transform into a sob.

“Pete?” Sam pulled back so he could see his face. 

He was devastated. 

“But what if the b-bad guy is supposed to be the good guy?!” 

Sam froze. “What do you mean?”

Peter gnawed at his chapped lip and looked back to the floor. “I’m just...” he seemed to be struggling to find the words.

Sam moved to grasp Peter’s hand—the one peeking out while he clutched himself tight into his blanket cocoon, and then looked at his face, twisting with apology. “Kid, you are not about to apologize for somebody beating the shit out of you, are you?”

“No.” He whispered.

And then Sam understood. He wasn’t going to apologize... he was going to justify! “Peter! You aren’t blaming yourself for this, are you? ‘Cuz, dude, we will be having some serious words if that’s the case.”

“But—“

“Nope. There are no buts. You were beaten, Peter. You had a concussion. Your arm was broken in two places—“ How the boy could think that! “Pete, I don’t care if it was a damned cop! You are no to blame for... Pete?” 

Peter’s eyes had widened as he paled. 

“Peter?”

The words flew out of his face before he could think about it, judging by the shocked expression he wore once he’d blurted out, “How did you know it was a cop?!”

“Excuse me?!” Sam exclaimed as he stood up abruptly.

Peter pushed himself back into his seat, trying to escape Sam’s obvious anger, “What? You said—“

“I was making what I THOUGHT was a ridiculous suggestion! Not telling you that I knew who your attacker was!”

“Well, now you do!” Peter yelled back, finally pulling his arms out of the blanket to throw them up in the air in frustration.

And Sam deflated. “Damn it, kid.” He drew in a deep breath to calm himself. “I guess now I do.”

The two superheroes took a moment to settle their thoughts.

Peter straightened his blanket around his shoulders, the wrap not nearly as tight as it had been before.

Sam—he took a few minutes to pace the room before he could come back. He simply placed himself back in front of Peter, though he sat on the floor now, back to the floor to ceiling windows Peter had been so captivated by earlier. “I’m sorry I lost my temper, Peter. That was an inappropriate response to you telling me something that you’re upset about.” He inhaled and then exhaled with obvious purpose. “I will try to control my reactions going forward.” 

Peter sat in the chair and looked at Sam with a critical eye—

Sam deserved it, so he waited... until he couldn’t hold his tongue anymore and he whispered, “The cop is an asshole, though.”

Peter heard, and Peter laughed. It wasn’t a huge one, just a huff of air, like he hadn’t expected it to happen. But it was all the permission he needed for the tears to begin to fall.

Sam wasn’t sure that he knew he was crying.

The boy started twisting his fingers together and focussed hard on the comforter surrounding him. “He, um... he...” Peter cleared his throat. “It was a...” He stopped.

“I’m not going anywhere, Peter. You take all the time you need.”

Peter nodded. “Yeah, ‘kay.”

“And you can breathe, if you need to. Just take it all the way down to the belly, kid. Nice and deep. You are safe here, don’t forget that.”

Peter nodded again and inhaled.

Sam waited. 

And then Peter just went. “I know the cops don’t like me, right?” He finally looked up at Sam as he explained. “They didn’t before—thought I was trying to make them look bad and stuff, I guess, and that’s okay. I’m used to it so I just do my thing and call it good.

“There are a few, though,” he paused to take a deep breath, then cleared his throat again, “There are a few that got that I’m only trying to help so I’d try to do extra patrols and stuff when they were on shift, but especially now after the final Snap. I mean- so many cops didn’t come back to work after... they’re so short handed and the budget cuts are insane! How could I not help, right?” 

There were things Sam already wanted to say, but he simply agreed with what Peter had said, “I totally understand that, kid. It was the right thing to do.”

His tears fell faster. “I know! I try so hard to be good enough, Sam, I really do! I just...”

Sam stopped him. “I know, Peter, sometimes it doesn’t feel like it’s enough no matter what you do, right?”

Peter inhaled... exhaled, then wiped tears from his cheek and nodded. “Right.”

And then he fell silent again, caught up in his own head.

“Tell me about the cop, Pete.” Sam finally prompted.

He blinked, like he was waking up from a daydream, and smiled. “I’d buy him donuts, like if I’d see that he was walking the neighbourhood. Sometimes I’d walk with him.” He chuckled at a memory. “I figured it could be good P.R. for the cops, or even me, what with all the bad stuff that’s been happening these days...”

And then he disappeared into his thoughts again.

Sam could see the memories warring within the boy, trying to reconcile what had been with what had happened. “Pete? Are you still with me?”

Peter didn’t respond for almost a minute, but then picked up where he’d left off. “I hadn’t seen him in a couple of weeks, which was weird, but it’s been so crazy that it didn’t register until I saw him, so... yeah.” He swiped at the wetness on his face. “Anyways, I’m swinging around and I see him, so I wave and he starts waving me over, so I go, ‘cuz, of course! And then he tells me that he needs my help!” Peter looked over to Sam, begging him to understand. “He’d never asked me for help before, Sam! Like EVER! And here he was!—and he tells me that there’s a huge drug deal goin’ on down this alley and back up won’t get there in time and can I please just go and help him deal with them...”

Sam’s heart sank as he realized where this was going.

Peter inhaled... exhaled. Inhaled... exhaled. Inhaled... exhaled.

“I went in first, figured I could web up the henchmen and stuff. Make quick work of it, right? But I step into the alley and, um... there’s a bunch of...” Peter was having trouble catching his breath. 

Sam didn’t say a word, just moved himself so he was sitting directly in front of the boy. He reached out and pulled the hand still fussing the blanket into his own—then gave it a squeeze. “Just breathe, Pete. In and out.”

He did. 

And suddenly the words were rushing out like a torrent—“Sam! They were cops! And I didn’t understand it at first ‘cuz my senses were going nuts and I was like, ‘are these cops the drug dealers?’ and I wasn’t getting it at all and so I looked at my fr...” He physically stopped himself from using another word. “My cop and he was there... with his gun.”

Sam tightened his grip again. “Breathe, kid.”

Peter inhaled... exhaled.

“He wouldn’t let me leave. He... he told me, Sam.” Peter squeezed his hand back. “He told me that I needed to feel fear like...” inhale... exhale... “like his wife had...” Peter’s chin quivered, and he fought it, but whatever came next was too much and Peter was throwing himself into Sam’s arms and clinging to the man like a lifeline. “I was so scared, I thought they were going to kill me... and I couldn’t fight back ‘cuz they’re cops and how do I fight the good guy—?“ 

Sam pulled the boy in tighter. “They weren’t the good guys, Peter. Good guys don’t do that. You could’ve fought like hell and you’d have been in the right. Nothing you could’ve done would have warranted you deserving that.”

“No, Sam, you’re wrong.” And then he wept “I wasn’t there and I deserved it! I did!”

Peter was inconsolable. “I wasn’t there and he trusted me and now...”

“Now what, Peter? I don’t understand. Tell me what happened?” Spoke softly. “It’s eating you alive, man. You’ve gotta get it out.”

Peter breathed for a bit, trying to calm the tears, to no avail. 

Sam finally just said, “Peter, if you gotta cry, you cry, but you need to tell me what happened.”

So Peter did, “He, um. He told me I’d, um—effed up. His wife had been walking home from an appointment and—“ he released a gust of air. “She was, uh, mugged and, um...” he sniffed and used his sleeve to wipe his nose. “She was hurt, like... bad.” 

Peter stopped talking then, and Sam was sure that Peter would end the story there. A cop pissed that his wife got mugged, he could understand the anger, but surely he didn’t think...

“She lost her baby.”

“Oh.” Damn.

Saying the words out loud seemed to shift something in the boy. He calmed and pulled away from the embrace. “I guess she’s not doing so well and he, uh... he’s used all his sick time or something—can’t spend any more time with her.”

“That explains his anger, but you know that’s not your fault, right?”

Peter stared back at him. “I know the day it happened. Mr. Harrington was dealing with a student issue so decathlon practice ran late that day. I was tired and then Ned invited me over to work on—“ Peter shook his head, almost in disbelief. “We worked on a damned Lego kit, Sam.”

“Hey! Don’t do that to yourself. You aren’t Spider-Man 24/7, Pete. Even he has to realize that, eventually.” Sam placed a hand on his knee and squeezed. “He’s angry, justifiably so—but what he did to you was wrong. You’ve got to get that.”

Peter dropped his head into his hands. “It doesn’t matter. And now, here I am all sad and pathetic because I can’t get anything right and I hurt the people around me. And I’m trying to figure out how I’m supposed to be Spider-Man when I’m not sure I can trust who the good guys are anymore?!” 

Team leader Sam popped up here, “Could you ID them?”

Peter chuckled sadly and demonstrated covering his head with his casted arm. “Too busy protecting my head from the crow bar, sorry.”

Sam cringed. “I’m sorry that you went through that, Peter.”

“It’s not your fault, and I can’t even blame him... I just—I thought he was my friend, you know? I feel so alone when I’m out there already and now...?”

The tears started trickling again.

“Hey, Peter? I know you don’t believe me right now, but all of us old timers know what it’s like to put your trust in the wrong people.” He laughed low, “Honestly, ask Cap if he can show you the elevator footage when you’re feeling a little more grounded. You’ll see what I mean.”

Peter nodded.

“And I also know that you’re gonna figure out how to navigate this crazy world. You’ll learn who to trust... and you’ll be okay in the end.” 

The two superheroes sat together, quiet and both lost in their thoughts until Sam glanced around the room and spotted the breakfast sandwiches lying discarded on the floor. 

“Peter Parker, we’re gonna start rebuilding trust right here. First thing to know is that you should always trust team leaders that bring you the good breakfast sandwiches.” He got up and scooped up the bag from off the floor and brought it back to the boy. “There’s this diner just down the street that poaches their eggs and it is magical—like Dr. Strange magical, man...”

* * * * * * 

And later on, when Peter was finally fed and resting, if Sam happened to request that the HQ AI request access to Karen to download all footage from the attack—well, there was no way Peter Parker was ever gonna feel like no one had his back again.

**Author's Note:**

> Day twenty.
> 
> I'm trying to get this done, folks. I promise.


End file.
